


My Guiding Darkness

by DarkBlue



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Caretaking, Carlos is Human, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil is Mostly Human, Dry Orgasm, Fluff and Smut, Guide Carlos, Intro to Sentinel AU, M/M, Massage, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Carlos, Prostate Milking, Protective Cecil, Restraints, Rimming, Sentinel Cecil, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, Sex Toys, Smut, There was no NV sentinel fic so I fixed it, This is mostly smut tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8360416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBlue/pseuds/DarkBlue
Summary: Cecil, already gifted with two enhanced senses (sight and touch), begins to discover his others sharpening as he comes online. He decides to use them to bond more deeply with Carlos through stages of consent play. Carlos, completely unaware of Cecil's changes, goes about life as usual until one day, something happens to Carlos.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you've never encountered/experienced a sentinel/guide fic DON'T WORRY. This is intended as an intro fic to the AU (but is anything in Night Vale ever an AU?) I also recently fell into Sentinel stories and became so quickly obsessed I went looking for a Night Vale one. I was horrified when there wasn't one, so I decided to write it. The BEST sentinel fic I've ever read is "Oddbodies" by toffeecape (https://archiveofourown.org/works/5209922), which is a work for Hannibal. If you're still concerned/lost you can check out this very helpful breakdown of the Sentinel/Guide verse here: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Sentinel_AU. The fic genre is almost all fanlore, meaning authors can cherrypick what to include/not.

“Carlos?”

“In here,” Carlos called over his shoulder. He tried to re-focus on scraping the culture he had prepared, but he knew Cecil was here now, and it distracted him into smiling involuntarily.

“It’s hot in here,” Cecil said stretching languorously against the doorframe while Carlos turned around.

“Is it?” yawned Carlos, checking his watch. Oh. Midnight. Cecil must be done with his show.

“You’re all sweaty,” Cecil pointed out. “You’ve even sweated through your lab coat.”

“Have I?” Carlos looked down bemusedly. The fluorescent lights of the laboratory did no one any favors. Even Cecil, unconcernedly gorgeous under most instances, looked wan and peaky. Carlos frowned at him. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” Cecil rolled his shoulders so that the knots cracked. “Oh, just a long show.”

“Cecil.” It was a warning, and Cecil shivered delightedly, his eyes darkening as he looked over at Carlos.

“Cecil,” and Carlos said it again, completely differently, not able to keep the exasperated smile from his voice.

“Plus it’s too hot in here,” agreed Cecil.

“I’ve never known you to be hot,” Carlos frowned. He put his hand up to Cecil’s forehead to check for a fever, but Cecil jerked away, shivering.

“Ceec?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Cecil apologized at once, shaking his head and trying to smile. Carlos was growing seriously alarmed now.

“Let’s go home _querido_ ,” he said quietly.

“That’s what I came for,” Cecil smiled chipperly. “Want to go in one car, or drive home after me?”

“I’ll come after, I want my car for an early experiment,” Carlos said absently.

Cecil’s face didn’t change. “Of course.”

There was something…Carlos’ arm hair prickled in the cool desert nightscape, the sand crunching under his shoes softly, pleasantly. The way Cecil was carrying his shoulders though made it seem like Carlos was stomping across a desert of bones.

“Cecil?”

Cecil whirled, his smile still in place, which was somehow more disturbing than any other expression he could have conjured up. “Yes?”

“A-are you okay to drive?” Carlos asked uncertainly.

“Of course I am,” Cecil said again happily. “It’ll be good to get home is all.”

Carlos nodded. “Yes. Yeah…it will be good.”

Cecil drove the exact speed limit all the way home, allowing the unmarked van to follow them at the precise one city block behind them. Carlos didn’t like it. Cecil was nothing if not impetuous. He loved making Monica speed after them to keep them in listening range. Some of his and Carlos’ best lovemaking had been in the frantic car chase minutes before the Secret Police and Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency could catch up.

They pulled up outside their house within seconds of each other, but Cecil didn’t get out of the driver’s seat until Carlos came over to peer into the glass. He wasn’t sure, but he thought Cecil was holding his ears, gritting his teeth painfully. But when he blinked, Cecil was only scratching his head, reaching for his keys like normal, swinging his door open to barely miss scraping Carlos’ jeans.

“Sorry,” Cecil said, still smiling.

It was really starting to freak Carlos out.

“Coming?” Cecil called as he walked normally – or maybe minced lightly? – over the gravel drive up to the back door, letting himself in with an audible sigh of relief.

Carlos knew he was being paranoid, but Cecil had been leaving the endearments off of how he addressed Carlos. Things like _darling_ and even more embarrassingly in public _lover._ Carlos thought he could live without that quirk of Cecil’s, but found that the conversation seemed empty without it.

_He must be mad at me_ , Carlos finally realized with an almost audible _ding!_ of the proverbial oven timer. He found Cecil in the back bedroom, dressing noiselessly. Cecil always wore the very softest of fabrics, and Carlos found him in the dark by slipping his hands over the chinchilla sweats and hooking his fingers into Cecil’s ass. Cecil mewed.

Carlos tucked his chin over Cecil’s shoulder. “Perhaps I might help get those on?”

“Normally, yes,” Cecil said, a tad breathlessly, but hiking a shoulder up to nudge Carlos’ face away from his ear. “But I’m not feeling very…er…”

“But you were in the lab?” Carlos said, questioningly.

“You’re covered in sweat.”

“Oh, right. I’ll shower quickly.”

“Not too quickly,” Cecil admonished him with some of his old warmth. “You take your time with that beautiful hair.”

Carlos relaxed a little beneath the words. That was more like Cecil. He leaned in to kiss him, and Cecil bore it patiently, barely moving his own mouth until Carlos drew away. “I’ll only be a moment.”

He thought he would surprise Cecil, so after shampooing, shaving, and washing thoroughly, he let his hands play until he was painfully erect, barely toweling off into a light, glistening sheen, the best sort of body paint for the dark lighting of the bedroom.

“Cecil,” he murmured, opening the door to a cloud of steam – the perfect music video entrance.

But Cecil was already asleep, a pillow pressed hard over his head.

***

Carlos woke at six, blearily and with hardly any restful nightmares to leave him feeling ready to face the day. Cecil was still nested in the bed, but by the way his body tensed, and his hands squeezed the pillows more tightly to him, Carlos knew he was awake. He made coffee, dressed, and was out the door in the normal amount of time it usually took him, but this morning he barked his heels against Cecil’s impatient sighs, painful whimpers, and final outburst of: “Carlos! Are you even _close_ to done?”

Carlos stayed at the lab that night, embarrassed to go home and fight with Cecil about Glow Cloud _knows_ what.

Cecil’s strange snappishness and angry mood lasted about a week. By the end of it, Carlos was convinced they were close to breaking up. Cecil never spoke unless Carlos did, and when Carlos did, pinched the bridge of his nose as if seeking divine patience to answer him. Carlos could barely eat around him, much less clear his throat, cough, or even breathe without annoying his boyfriend. Carlos felt picked apart, like everything he did was wrong. He loved Cecil. He loved him dearly, but this _thing_ , this _monster_ in Cecil’s body, dropping his endearments and hissing angrily when Carlos tried to eat cereal, wasn’t him. Carlos had been researching body snatchers and demonic possession for several days before the Cecil switch just flipped.

He was greeted by warm hands behind him at the lab _in front of_ his entire team, who grinned and happily murmured that they were making up. But from what fight, Carlos was never sure. Cecil didn’t just return to Cecil. Cecil returned to Cecil with such a ferocity, Carlos was scared. He asked Carlos to speak to him for hours in Spanish and French and Creole. Cecil could understand all languages if he wanted, but he turned the switch off in his brain and lay for hours on the couch with his eyes closed, a leg hooked over the back, humming in cadence to Carlos’ words like it was a lullaby. Carlos described his Gogo’s gumbo when he was sick as a boy. He even rattled the recipe off to Cecil while Cecil trilled an archipelago to ingredients like Cajun peppers and shrimp jambalaya.

Once, he began to hum so deeply, Carlos could feel it in his bones and cock, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from going over to the couch and grab between Cecil’s legs, halting the deep sonic hum with a squeak. They had made love for hours on the couch, slowly and with no words, with Cecil’s hands probing his neck, his collarbone, his hips and wrists with his fingers. It took Carlos longer than he should have to realize that Cecil was listening to his pulse race. It oddly turned him on that Cecil wanted to know him so completely. They forgot the week long irritation spat by drinking each other in.

Cecil was more affectionate than ever before, almost to the point of irritation. He was like a cat, plastering himself to Carlos on the back, rubbing his clothes, his stubble, his hair. Cecil had always been tactile. It had been one of the quirks Carlos had accepted about him. Cecil had always been overly touchy, and stared too much. It had been nerve-wracking when he had first met him. Cecil did not have the same restraint as…well…normal people did when it came to _looking_. He would stare at Carlos’ face for hours while he spoke. When Carlos had first moved to Night Vale, it had been so unnerving he had avoided Cecil for months, preferring to call him to tell him the news. Cecil would sometimes interrupt his staring to stroke his cheek. Carlos had been so flummoxed by this completely unforeseen and unexpected turn of events, he had barely been able to ask Cecil out. Cecil had always acted like Carlos was the most interesting thing in the world, and it had always made Carlos – thoroughly average – feel remarkably awkward.

Now, though, Cecil stepped up his interest – bordering on obsession – with Carlos to the point that Carlos was as uncomfortable as he had been on his first arrival to Night Vale. Cecil could lay for hours – and one Saturday did – just listening to Carlos’ heartbeat. He pushed different bowls of food toward Carlos with different textures just so he could listen to the difference in him chewing. Finally Carlos had to say something.

“Cecil, stop.”

“What?” Cecil had been trying to mimic everything Carlos said in his own voice. Cecil was quite good at impressions on the radio, even if they weren’t always favorable.

“I love you.”

Cecil seemed delighted, humming in response before quickly adding: “Oh darling, I love you too. Completely. Totally. I am yours.”

“Right. See…here’s the thing…” Despite Cecil always assuring Carlos he could tell him anything, Carlos felt that…well he felt that Cecil’s feelings were delicate. It was easy to offend, because Cecil felt that he had to be perfect for Carlos, despite his millions of assurances that he didn’t.

“Tell me, sweet Carlos. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“Just?”

“You don’t need to listen to me chew,” blurted Carlos. “Or change the way I stand while I’m peeing…or…just…it’s too much Cecil.”

Cecil had grown very still, his silver white hair cocked to one side. He was wearing it short today, and he looked very small suddenly, behind his wide glasses, long fingers covering shocked lips.

“It’s too much?”

Carlos wanted to say _no, not at all_ just to wipe the look off Cecil’s face. But Cecil was constantly chiding him to voice his desires. “Uh…a little. Just a little,” he defended at Cecil’s large tears welling in violet eyes. “Just the littlest bit. Maybe if we could leave when I’m using the restroom…the rest is…tolerable I just….”

“Tolerable?” squeaked Cecil.

“Well you know I love the…er...physical. And the heartbeat and the sound testing-“ here Carlos blushed so hard he could barely meet Cecil’s eyes.

Cecil smiled, relieved. “But you like those things?”

“I…uh…” Carlos cleared his throat, blushing harder than he was sure he blushed anywhere but in Cecil’s company. “I loved those,” he blurted.

Cecil _beamed._ “Good. We can do sound testing tonight. I think I’ve finally set up the full range of tests.”

“Oh I…” and Carlos’ dick twitched hard in his pants. He dropped his face into his hands. He wasn’t sure how this conversation had gone so badly.

Cecil looked down at his pants with a smirk, his sharp eyes missing nothing. Carlos wanted to die. They were in _public_ , but to Cecil, they might have been alone.

He leaned forward, hooking a finger in Carlos’ collar over their breakfast at Moonlight All Night Diner. Cecil’s imaginary cornmeal grits were almost gone. Or…more gone.

“Carlos. If you want me to, I can crawl under this table and begin the sound testing right now. I hadn’t considered the sounds you would make in public.”

Carlos didn’t mean to. He really _hadn’t_ planned to. But a tiny sound escaped him. Part whine, part strangled cry of horror.

Cecil let go of his collar, but Carlos didn’t thump back in his seat the way he wanted to. He was entranced by Cecil’s gaze, which had gone a magnetic black, the irises eating away at the white. Cecil actually licked his lips. “Now that was a simply delicious sound,” he said quietly. So quietly, Carlos wasn’t sure if he actually heard him. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound escaped again, breathier, smaller.

“What if we went into the back of your car?” suggested Cecil angelically. “We could do a little scientific _testing_ before work.”

Carlos tried to say, “Cecil,” but all he said was “S…Ah.”

Cecil smiled even more widely. Seriously, the Cheshire cat would have been right at home in Night Vale, Carlos thought distractedly, and he finally, slowly, leaned back into his booth in time as Cecil did.

He cleared his throat, thick with the blood rushing out of his brain in a straight downwards trajectory.

Cecil squirmed delightedly.

“Are…are you serious?” he managed.

Cecil raised a graceful blonde eyebrow.

Carlos wanted to melt. Cecil sometimes was so sexy, so dangerous, he didn’t understand how he could stand to be with plain, average height Carlos.

“None of that,” snapped Cecil, and his voice was so commanding, several tables looked over, making Carlos want to die.

“Wh-what?”

“Doubting yourself.”

“I w-“

“Don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Cecil purred, his lids dripping over black eyes to hide them. “Now go to work.”

“But…but I was…” Carlos had been about to call _out_ of work to let Cecil torture him however he wanted. His brain was completely gone. It belonged to his dick. And his dick belonged to Cecil.

“After,” Cecil promised him, his liquid eyes slowly receding to purple.

Carlos felt this was distinctly unfair. Cecil was already returning to normal? He’d be sporting a softie all day.

“When you get home tonight,” Cecil said savagely, quietly, running a long manicured nail over the interior of his own wrist in swirling patterns that were making Carlos’ balls tighten in his pants. “I want you to go straight upstairs. Strip. Strap yourself into whatever you find.”

Carlos wanted to be embarrassed that there were people listening. More people than the normal agents. But he found he couldn’t care. He was so preoccupied with not coming embarrassedly untouched in his pants like a teenager, eyes glued to Cecil’s fingers.

“I…” and Carlos’ voice trembled horribly. “I have to go to work.”

He bolted from the booth without finishing breakfast to beeline for his car, hands hovering uselessly in front of his belt to hold his lab coat closed. He completely missed Cecil pulling out a small notebook from a vest pocket and marking down with meticulous interest the sounds he had wrung from his boyfriend.

***

Work was torture. Carlos was itching and distracted all day. He had come quickly in his car, embarrassedly into drive-thru napkins. He could hardly walk into the lab fully erect, flushed and sweating just from Cecil’s voice and promises. He jerked himself off again around two in the bathroom, twitching and shaking. At three he got a text from Cecil: _no more._

Carlos left work at six, like usual, though it was agony to stay the whole time. He spent most of his time decorating the blackboard, looking up new fonts to copy on his smartphone. He even polished the periodic table of elements and laminated the post-it notes tacked up next to it that were all of the lab teams newly discovered elements (eight in all).

Carlos wasn’t sure if Cecil would be working until one in the morning or not. He wasn’t sure he would be able to wait that late. He took off his shoes by the front door. He hung up his lab coat, and he went to the back bedroom. He stopped, stunned, in the doorway.

Cecil was recording his show _in their bedroom_. There were countless boom mics, large spinning tapes, shaking speakers, and even the _on air_ light above their headboard. Cecil was sitting in the armchair usually reserved for draping still clean clothes over. He was speaking in his radio-deep voice over the airwaves, but when he saw Carlos, he flipped a switch and a quick jingle of music occurred signaling the beginning of the broadcast.

“Cecil! What are you doing?”

“Sound tests require professional recording equipment,” Cecil said, sucking in his lip slowly – unconcernedly – as he looked at Carlos. “Strip – no, wait. I want to take off your clothes while I read my broadcast. And any noise you make will go out over the airwaves.”

Carlos made a small choked noise and Cecil tapped him lightly on the leg. “None of that,” he chided. “I’m making my own library of noises.”

Carlos wasn’t sure if he were turned on or mortified. Obediently to Cecil’s crooked finger, he walked forward when gestured, just as Cecil flipped the microphone back on.

“ _News today listeners…there have been numerous reports on the ocean appearing in Dark Owl Records.”_

Cecil tugged hard on the buckle of Carlos’ belt and began pulling it silently, loop by loop from its place.

_“Despite our desert location, the portal to the Pacific has appeared in the break room sink of the employee’s lounge.”_

He gestured for Carlos to kneel and pulled off his lab coat over stiff arms, before starting on the plaid unbuttoned button down.

“ _Former Night Vale intern Maureen is positive it is in fact, an ocean, and not the leftover dishwater because in addition to coffee grounds, she found a small shark among the mugs.”_

Cecil grabbed a fistful of Carlos’ old and long-faded college shirt. He rubbed small circles into Carlos’ shoulder blades in approval at the soft pilling of the fabric before pulling it over obedient rounded shoulders.

“ _I’m obliged to inform you, listeners, that Dark Owl Record mugs retail for $8 each, or $24 for the really limited edition which is only available to the first 500.”_

Cecil pulled off Carlos’ undershirt and gestured at him to stand so he could start on his jeans. Though they were alone in their house (with minimal government surveillance, and the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lived In Their (Your) Home), Carlos felt his cheeks burning at the thought of hundreds of watching spectators.

“ _Maureen has further proof in that when she dropped a fork into the ocean, it quickly sank to the stainless steel bottom before passing through it and disappearing forever. Apparently parts of the sink are solid….she says the shark is gone now.”_

The quiet sound of the zipper being pulled down sounded deafening to Carlos’ ears. He could hardly stand how slow Cecil was going. He wanted to shuck his clothes and lay on the bed himself, but as if he could sense his impatience, Cecil’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist in a warning lock, fingers pressed into his pulse point.

Carlos swallowed at the warning look on Cecil’s face as he, careful not to tangle his headphone cord, slowly pulled Carlos’ jeans and boxers off together, making him step out of each leg as he narrated:

“ _The shark has been replaced by the frozen remains of your hopes and dreams. Only joking listeners. Your dreams have no remains. Instead, the ocean in the sink has begun to attract small schools of fish.”_

Carlos wanted to laugh with the absurdity of the whole situation, but found it was hard to formulate any thoughts at all as the airwaves went dead except for Cecil’s staticky – and very loud – breathing as he concentrated on pushing Carlos onto their bed, eyes blackening, ink spilling across the whites.

Carlos mimed talking with a hand, and Cecil quickly leaned back towards the armchair and said into his microphone: “ _And now for this week’s Community Calendar_ ,” before flipping a switch to a prerecorded message. The “On Air” blinked off over the headboard, and Carlos let out a huge wail.

“ _Ceeecillll_.”

Cecil’s radio deep inflection didn’t change. “ _Yes?_ ” he purred, and Carlos writhed on the bed.

“Cecil, what are you going to-“

“Hush, beautiful Carlos.”

Carlos hushed.

Cecil brought out a bag Carlos had seen under the bed. It was a gym bag, but Carlos had never seen Cecil go to a gym. He didn’t even think Night Vale had gyms. It seemed slightly pointless given so many of the residents could change appearance at will. There was that one teenager – Josh, was it? – who was always walking around as half a wolf spider, but Carlos was severely chastised by his half sister Jackie when he didn’t recognize him a week later when he presented as a lobster.

“He’s still finding himself,” she whispered in admonishment. “You, of all people, should recognize that.”

Carlos hadn’t been able to recognize him, or really knew what she meant. But, as per usual with things in Night Vale, he had asked Cecil any time he saw anything that remotely looked like something Josh might become. He had become pretty good at guessing too; at least 60% of the time the can on the side of the road actually _was_ the high school sophomore.

Now, from the gym bag, Cecil was unpacking several things Carlos was familiar with but had been afraid were too foreign for Night Vale. He had never seen any sort of sex shop, and since most things had to be cleared by the City Council and their myriad of permits, Carlos had expected sex toys to be low on the list of priorities people would apply for. Nevertheless, his voice quavered when he asked in a slightly more breathy voice: “C-cecil?”

“Yes, gorgeous?”

“Your segment?”

“Oh, right!” Cecil leapt back to the segment to flip another switch. The prerecorded list of advertisements came on. Carlos hoped REI wasn’t advertising again. The screaming in that one always gave him the creeps.

“Now, beautiful Carlos. We’re going to see what noises I can record while I actually _do_ my report. Then after we’re going to see what I can do with my hands.”

Carlos drew a sharp, raggedy breath without any stimulation, and Cecil’s answering feral smile was not promising. He peeled several stickers on wires and carefully placed them on Carlos’ chest and on the pulse point on the inside of one thigh.

“Cecil…these are…these are EKG magnets.”

“I know that.”

“Wh-what are you expecting to…to do?” Carlos tried not to betray his worry. As with everything, however, Cecil picked up on the tone instantly.

“Nothing you aren’t comfortable with,” he said immediately. “I’m only trying to record the most accurate of readings when you make your most _lovely_ sounds.”

The way Cecil said ‘lovely’ might as well have been a felony.

“Now, now, Carlos. I see you’re eager and ready to begin. But we can’t just throw away our data.”

“What?”

“In case you decide to-“

“ _Decide_ to?” spluttered Carlos, and grunted a tiny, helpless moan when he felt Cecil roll a band over his already swollen and tightened balls.

“There,” said Cecil happily. “No release for you.”

“Oh god,” mumbled Carlos, already covering his face with one hand.

“Oh, and none of that,” Cecil frowned. “Tie yourself up while I report.”

“But-“

“Carlos,” and this time it was Cecil’s warning, and Carlos shivered all over without his permission. Cecil’s voice could _do_ things.

“ _More updates on the ocean in the break room sink. Maureen has decided to throw larger objects into the sink to discern its depth. So far, they have managed to clear all evidence that the Spice Girls have ever existed. Anyone now speaking of the Spice Girls will be reported for reprogramming.”_

Carlos finished knotting both legs and one arm with careful rope and held a hand out to Cecil, who only grinned filthily and pulled an extra loop of headphone wire from his microphone as he continued narrating, leaning over Carlos’ whole body to tie his last hand. He retreated slowly, sucking on Carlos’ bared chest as Carlos gasped and writhed, trying to press his lips together to keep his predicament off the air.

But when Cecil grabbed his cock, hard, Carlos made a breathy noise he had never heard himself make before.

Evidently Cecil hadn’t either, because it stopped him in the middle of speaking. He grinned ferociously, wickedly, horribly down at Carlos before he stammered:

“ _And now…traffic._ ” Another flick of a button and: “Oh _Carlos_. What a delectable sound that was. I’ve never heard you quite so…”

“Cecil,” and he said it through gritted teeth, but Cecil only tinkled a delighted laugh.

“Of course, yes, cover it with words and threats, but now I know the _truth._ There’s a whole other octave of noises you’ve never yet made for me, despite sleeping together for two years.”

“Cecil,” whispered Carlos, rendered incapable of more thought as Cecil licked a long, hungry, hot swoop from shaft to tip.

“All right, that’s enough,” Cecil told himself. “We’ll start with nipple clamps and your basic vibrating cock ring.”

“Uhnnn,” said Carlos piteously.

“Not yet. But by morning, I doubt you’ll be able to come at all.”

“Cecil,” and Carlos’ voice was whispering, high, desperate.

Cecil ignored his neediness. He only carefully pinched each nipple a few times until Carlos rubbed helplessly against the sheets and grunted viscerally when the clamp was applied. The EKG’s beeping wasn’t on, but Carlos could see his own elevated heart rate splashed in scrawling spikes across the screen, printing on folding graph paper for later analysis. The dropped boom microphones above the bed were all recording, and somehow the knowledge that later Cecil would be listening to every filthy word, every sucked breath, every bitter hiccup made Carlos whine a two part, broken sound just as Cecil carefully rolled a rubber ring over his cock as far down as it would go.

“Oh love,” sighed Cecil happily. “We haven’t even started yet, and already such gifts for me to record and label.”

“I-“ stuttered Carlos, and something hot and molten swept him. His vision honed; his head pounded, and he rutted uselessly into the air. It was several agonizing seconds of holding his breath before he realized he wasn’t coming.

“Your first dry orgasm,” Cecil whispered reverently, stroking a long stroke down Carlos’ bare and distended stomach. Carlos twitched and whimpered in spite of himself, but Cecil only retreated with a grin and flicked on the recording sign again.

“ _I’ve sent current intern Jamal to check out the ocean claim. He has had extensive scuba training at the end of the docks here in town. Of course…not having water the town has had a long…dry spell.”_ With the words, Cecil flicked another button, and Carlos felt that he was breaking apart. His entire stiff cock was vibrating, and it was going up to the tip, his erection straining like a tensed muscle, cramping up with the pleasure/pain of it, and he couldn’t help himself. He cried _ahh_ in a high, painful, lavish whimper that ended in grunting as his vision whited out again.

“ _Oh Khoshekh, playing with his kittens again,_ ” Carlos could hear Cecil’s amused lie spreading out over the town. “ _Did any of you hear that most_ adorable _sound?”_

Carlos felt his breathing stutter, but after that swore not to make any more noise, even when Cecil slowly inserted lubricated beads on a string, one after another until the shaking in front and the involuntary clenching of his asshole forced the beads to tangle around his prostate.

He almost cried _Cecil_ fifty times or more, but finally, in the most amused, smug, and slow tone he had ever heard, he heard the blessed: _Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight._

Carlos opened his eyes; his glasses had fallen off his slicked sweaty face. But he could still squint to see if the “On Air” sign had gone off. The moment it had he let loose into the microphones. He whimpered. He cried. He groaned.

Cecil only slipped into bed next to him as if watching a show, running his hands over Carlos’ taught pectorals, his straining biceps. He even dipped toward his stomach and with a clever hand caught the cock ring and smothered it until Carlos managed to relax clenched muscles, before letting it spring free and making Carlos shriek incoherently.

When Cecil tired of his game of turning the ring on and off, of pulling the beads out on excruciating slowness, of licking the sore redness of his nipples to puffy, painful peaks, he finally slipped the toys off and out of Carlos before his fingers hovered around the ring around Carlos’ balls.

“I’m going to roll these off slowly,” he warned Carlos. “And it will hurt. But I think you’ll come almost immediately. I’m going to talk to you. I want you to focus on my voice.”

Carlos was so delirious he would have nodded to anything, but Cecil grabbed his chin with his other hand. “Carlos. Listen to me. Focus. On. My. _Voice.”_ And it was radio deep and shuddering. Carlos nodded, knowing at the same time that no matter what he was doing, when he heard that cadence on the radio, he was going to always associate it with this moment.

“Carlos, darling, sweet Carlos-“ Cecil began rolling the painfully tight bands using his fingernails copiously. It hurt. It was agony. His cock was so tight. His ass was jerking hard into Cecil’s groping hand.

“You are _perfect._ ”

The band sprung free, and Carlos came with so much guttural grunting he would have been embarrassed if he could have been. He squeezed his eyes shut; his face hurt; his body hurt; everything was white, then black. He was breaking apart. There were hands on him, grounding him, and still Cecil’s persistent, incessant voice, roping him down, binding him to reality, talking him through it, praising his patience. Carlos felt a swell of pride. He had done well. He drifted back to reality, wincing painfully as Cecil kept stroking.

“S-stop.”

“Usually Carlos, yes. Of course. But this isn’t that time. You don’t know what’s in you.”

“Cecil I-“ but then Cecil commanded him:

“Come again,” and Carlos was powerless to obey his voice. His back arched. He cried out more normally, his cock spurted slowly, oozed, his spine went weak at the base, and he flopped into Cecil’s arms, crying weakly.

“There, there, my beautiful sweet heart. I’ve got you, my love. I’ve got you. You’ve been so good. So good. Just a little more for me. Just all night for me.”

“For you,” Carlos heard himself agreeing wildly. “Anything for you.”

When he managed to open his eyes, he saw that Cecil was undressing, carefully folding lithe, shining limbs in a reverse process than in the mornings, folding his best cashmere jockey pants onto the armchair.

“How are you?” he asked Carlos seriously. His eyes were a magnetic black.

Carlos shrugged weakly. “G-good,” he hesitated.

Cecil’s eyebrows snapped together as he crawled onto the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing Cecil, I-“

“Tell me _right now_ ,” and Carlos shivered all over at the commandment in his voice.

“When you’re with me,” he whispered, turning his face away toward the wall so he could blush in private, “I don’t want to be restrained.”

Cecil ran his fingers over Carlos’ hot face, tracing the flush down his neck to his wildly beating heart. “Of course not,” and he said it quietly, almost breathlessly, so that Carlos looked back up at him, trying not to see the ominous black microphone recording his every helpless admittance. Carlos shivered all over, and Cecil’s smile grew terrifyingly wide. He licked his lips as he leaned over one of Carlos’ wrists, and then licked the inside of his elbows, swirling patterns to lave over the rough marks as Cecil untied him.

As soon as Carlos’ right arm sprang free, he half curled in on himself to grab Cecil’s back and pull him close, his mouth capturing his. Cecil made a surprised squeak of a sound that made Carlos grin against him, before Cecil rumbled in a pleased, territorial sort of way.

“Carlos,” he said quietly as Carlos moved down to sucking on Cecil’s neck hard enough to bruise. Cecil’s voice even shook a little.

“Mmm?”

“I have to…to untie your other hand.”

“Go ahead, _querido._ ”

“C-Carlos,” whined Cecil, still clutching at him as Carlos pinched a nipple hard and returned to running his tongue on the inside of Cecil’s mouth.

“Mmm?”

“I-“ stammered Cecil.

“Me too,” murmured Carlos unthinkingly. “I love you too. To the moon and the void.”

Cecil, unexpectedly, began to cry.

Carlos immediately stopped, drawing the scant inches back he could muster. “Cecil? Cecil, what’s wrong?”

But Cecil couldn’t answer him. Cursing, Carlos tucked himself even more painfully around Cecil in order to untie his left hand before moving towards his ankles, all the more complicated by Cecil crying weakly, almost silently, in his lap. Once he was free, he gathered his boyfriend with his arms and legs into a bodily hug, stroking his hair, his back, and making comforting _shh-shh_ noises like he might to a baby.

Cecil quieted with hiccups and sniffles, burying his cold nose into the hot triangle of Carlos’ neck and collarbone.

“Do you want to talk to me now?” Carlos said quietly, a little sternly.

“C-Carlos I…I just didn’t know…that…”

“Didn’t know what?”

“You said…you said you loved me.”

Carlos was bewildered. “I do love you. I say it all the time. Do I not say it enough?”

“N-no, you do…it’s just…you knew…you heard what…what I was trying to say.”

Carlos smiled a little dryly. “I think it was pretty obvious what you were trying to say.”

Cecil froze a moment as if Carlos had wounded him, and Carlos instinctively reached out to gather him again, to rub circles into the broad part of Cecil’s back.

“I’ve got you _querido_ ,” he promised. “You’re okay. You’re good. You’re here with me.”

Cecil began to cry again.

“Say it with me, Cecil. Say, ‘I’m here with you.’”

“I-“ Cecil shook his head into the trapezius muscle of Carlos’ shoulder. He grinned a watery smile when he came up for air. “You’re such a natural Carlos. I didn’t expect you to be such a natural.”

“A natural what?” Carlos frowned.

“Guide,” said Cecil, equally puzzled.

“A what?”

Cecil stared at him a long moment, opening his mouth as if to test whether Carlos was joking, but then shut it. His tears started silently again, and his face crumpled.

Carlos winched him closer to his own body heat, squeezing him as tightly as he could to keep him present. “Cecil,” he murmured. “You have to talk to me.”

He could feel Cecil’s distress and confusion radiating through his skin. Cecil only made a small unhappy noise.

“Why don’t we turn all of this off,” suggested Carlos quietly, gesturing at the microphones. “We’ll get dressed and have a cup of tea.”

“ _No!_ ” and this idea seemed to distress Cecil most of all. “No, I worked so hard to get the clearances and timing to do this! You have no idea! It could be years before I get this chance again!”

“You come first, Cecil,” Carlos reminded him.

“No, _you_ come first,” Cecil argued wildly. He clutched at Carlos, rubbing his hands along Carlos’ arms as if assuring himself they were real. “Don’t you…this is something I really want Carlos. _Please?_ For me?”

“Cecil, of course,” Carlos assured him patiently. “I just don’t know if you’re in the right headspace for this.”

Cecil nodded, panic draining out of him at Carlos’ acceptance. “You’re right…you’re right. I’m sorry. Could we…could we maybe start over?” He wiped his eyes and sniffled a little.

“Of course, _querido_ ,” said Carlos doubtfully. “If that’s what you really want. If you think you’re up for it.”

Cecil got out of the bed and stood before him, looking down at Carlos for a long, impenetrable minute. Carlos felt a minute may have actually ticked by, and he dropped his gaze from Cecil’s inquiring eyes in embarrassment. Cecil did not protest, only devoured him through gaze alone, and cocked his head as if waiting for Carlos to make a sound. Carlos didn’t, or at least not one he could hear. He could feel his heart speeding up though, at the analytical way Cecil was regarding him. It was making him slightly uncomfortable. Maybe he thought Carlos was a bit too flabby from Big Rico’s…from sitting on stools all day…from…

“ _Stop that_ ,” Cecil commanded, in a shudderingly deep radio announcer voice. “The only reason I’m watching you is to think about how beautiful you are. How perfect. How lucky I am to have you as mine.”

“I’m always yours, Cecil,” Carlos said simply, and Cecil swelled with possessory pride and lust as if Carlos had said something incredibly filthy or sexy, neither of which he was sure he was capable of doing.

Cecil crawled back onto the bed, all the way up Carlos’ body to run his hands through Carlos’ hair, laying gently down beside him. Carlos turned a confused, inquiring face towards him, and Cecil smiled as sweetly as a child.

“Going slow, okay?”

Relief swamped Carlos, and he smiled radiantly back. “Perfect.”

Cecil took his time with Carlos. He kneaded Carlos’ head until he groaned, made him sit his head in Cecil’s lap as he pushed down on the knots in his neck and shoulders, smoothing his collarbones out in long wing shapes. Carlos only made quiet sounds. Quieter than he thought the microphones might be capable of picking up. Small whimpers and sighs of gratitude when Cecil untwanged a particularly tense knot. Cecil even made him flip over on his back to give him a real massage, working their bedside hand lotion deep into the muscles of Carlos’ back, and Cecil made a happy trilling purr when his fingertips traced Carlos’ slick skin. Most of the time, Carlos was quiet except to say, “That feels so good, Cecil,” and Cecil’s returning affectionate, “Hush. I want your natural sounds.”

Carlos thought it was an odd thing to want, but did grunt a tiny disappointed sound when Cecil’s hands hovered over his butt but then made him flip over onto his back again. Cecil then moved from his position to hover over Carlos, kissing him long, soundly, wetly. He worked his way down Carlos’ neck; he found a new sweet spot behind Carlos’ right ear which neither of them had known he had. Carlos drew in long shuddering breaths when Cecil nibbled behind it, even jerking his leg by accident into Cecil’s stomach and breaking the mood with helpless laughter.

Cecil was…talented to say the least. He bit the underside of Carlos’ arms, kissed the ticklish spot between his fingers, carved his own fingers into the spaces between Carlos’ ribs, making his back arch off the bed as he followed the trailing upwards. If Carlos’ back had been a collection of satisfied sighs and rumbles of approval, then his chest, ribs, and abdomen were high series of breathy moans, whimpers, yelps. Cecil took his time licking the v of Carlos’ hipbone until his cock was leaking precum embarrassingly all over his stomach, which Cecil took his time to clean back up, drawing small circles on Carlos’ inner thigh while he did so.

Cecil moved in increasingly smaller circles around his base, fingers probing his hip joints, pressing him down so that he rutted uselessly against the pressure, and just when Carlos had closed his eyes with the impending bliss of Cecil’s tongue finally _finally_ touching his shaft, Cecil was tugging on his hips to flip over.

Carlos groaned a long, frustrated, angry sound.

Cecil chuckled darkly.

Carlos refused to turn over, cracking his neck angrily and glaring at Cecil with expectation.

Cecil did not debate the point. He only shoveled a hand under Carlos’ back and legs and flipped him so quickly he squeaked a loud shout of surprise and clutched the pillows to regain his balance.

Cecil clucked at him to relax, his hands moving surely over already slicked back muscles, and then lower, to his ass. Carlos stilled immediately, but couldn’t help his rigid muscles of expectation as Cecil kneed his legs apart.

“Carlos,” sighed Cecil finally into the long silence.

“I’m sorry,” whimpered Carlos. “It’s just so much _querido_.”

He couldn’t see Cecil, but he could _feel_ his squirm of delight, of excitement. “And you’ve held on marvelously, dear Carlos. It’s been almost two hours.”

Carlos keened. He had never keened before in all his time with Cecil, but knowing he had been systematically wrung from all the sounds he might make and they hadn’t even really started was killing him.

Cecil shivered and crawled up his body to Carlos’ deep groan of approval. “That was a wonderful sound, my darling. I’ve never heard you make anything like it. I’ve never heard one better.”

Carlos flushed with pleasure.

“But we’re going to try nonetheless…”

Carlos whimpered, and without his noticing, his butt cheeks had unclenched from their frozen position as Cecil carefully, tenderly, began kneading them with sure thumbs. Carlos cried halfway through; the tears couldn’t stop, but Cecil seemed to understand they were out of his hopeless frustration, rutting against the sheets.

Carlos wasn’t expecting it, even when he felt Cecil’s hot breath against his cheeks. He had thought Cecil was going to kiss him, not bite him so hard he squealed.

Cecil enjoyed it so immensely he bit him harder. And harder. Until Carlos made a pained sound without any enjoyment, and Cecil switched to licking the swollen spots apologetically, spreading his cheeks first with his hot, wet tongue. When Carlos was sticking his ass further and further into Cecil’s face, Cecil flattened him gleefully with a hand to his lower back, and listened in satisfaction to the grunt Carlos gave. Then he carefully, tenderly, pulled his cheeks apart with unwavering hands and began rimming his swollen pink asshole.

Carlos was a shuddering mess in seconds. The tears flowed more quickly, he writhed and cried out and shrieked Cecil’s name. He only quieted when Cecil actually inserted his tongue into the hot, tight channel.

“I-“ stuttered Carlos, and quicker than a snake, Cecil’s hands were pinching his balls, keeping him from coming more than the shuddering black out of before.

“They say,” Cecil said maliciously, removing his tongue in favor of fetching the lube. “that if you are kept on the brink of orgasm for hours, you come much longer and harder. What do you think, Carlos?”

Carlos could only mumble incoherent gibberish that made Cecil’s hands tense and tremble with excitement against his skin. He licked his way back into Carlos and began to fuck him slowly, surely with a tongue trailing long stripes on his insides. Carlos squirmed, and whined, and panted, but cried out when Cecil removed his tongue for one smooth finger. Carlos moaned.

Cecil hooked his finger and twisted in, finding Carlos’ prostate deftly, through ease of long practice. The motion made Carlos scream. Instead of withdrawing his finger, Cecil only uncrooked it and carefully repeated the motion as if pointing to something in the distance, gently, agonizingly fucking his prostate with body wracking shivers that made Carlos whine a long, high pitched, uninterrupted moan. When Cecil withdrew his finger, Carlos almost came again, his overstimulated body equally happy of the relief as the torture.

He inserted two fingers and carefully scissored inside Carlos. This elicited less of a painful, wild reaction than deep grunts of satisfaction, knowing what was coming. To confuse him, Cecil pushed deeper, and made the scissoring motion skate gracefully over Carlos’ prostate until he was pushing everything he had – arms, hips, knees, and even head – onto the bed to shove himself harder into the contact. Cecil withdrew, and Carlos wept.

Three fingers Cecil went for the sounds Carlos could make at being fucked mercilessly, jamming into his prostate hard and dirty and fast. It was never enough stimulation, but Carlos followed it with swirling hips, begging hungry grunts and cries, until his legs were trembling and weak.

“Steady, dear Carlos,” murmured Cecil as Carlos threatened to loose his knees out from under him, his arms badly shaking like he had held a plank too long. His core quivered, and his dick twitched hard enough to be seen. Carlos was shivering uncontrollably like he had been left in the cold, and his face was pressed into the mattress, his breathing ragged with hopeful promise.

Cecil took his own time preparing himself. He let his lubed fingers linger over his own cock, pulling and tugging long ropes to easy his agony from watching untouched so long. He called Carlos’ name and made him watch as he rutted into his own slicked hand, held loosely so Carlos’ whines and quavered broken begging could direct him to begin rubbing his cock against the cleft of Carlos’ ass. Carlos made no sounds he had ever heard before. He growled. Cecil would have been amused if Carlos hadn’t been so insistent, even balancing precariously on one hand to guide Cecil – feet away – to his destination.

Cecil gave no warning, no preparation. He only rimmed Carlos a few more times with quick fingers and plunged in so deep and hard, Carlos did lose his balance and fell into the mattress, screaming in victory and weeping brokenly as Cecil began to fuck him so gently it wouldn’t have broken an egg.

“Harder, _querido_ , please,” begged Carlos, trying to thrust his hips while Cecil held them down with the bar of one arm.

“You’ll take what you’re given,” Cecil growled back at him. “And you’ll like it.”

Carlos agreed wildly, clenching and unclenching around Cecil. “It’s so much,” he whispered. “I can’t do it.”

“You _can_. You will.”

“I can.”

“I’m wringing every sound you can make. And I still think I could experiment every night for a week and not find them all.”

Carlos whined and long, low moan cutting into a yelp when Cecil’s hand snuck beneath him and pinched his nipple, hard.

“It’s a good thing we have a lifetime,” purred Cecil. “For me to find them all.”

Carlos whimpered again.

“Flip over.”

Carlos obeyed instantly, somehow working it so that he never let Cecil out of him, spreading wide and straddle legs around Cecil’s hips. Cecil took him in every position he could think of, never quite brushing Carlos’ prostate.

“P-please,” Carlos begged, and his voice sounded so defeated, so broken, Cecil understood this was the end of the sensory fun.

“Just hold on, dearest,” he swore quietly.

Carlos nodded weakly, fingers grabbing for Cecil’s shoulders as leverage as Cecil carefully, lovingly, marked each side of Carlos’ neck while Carlos hissed.

“Let’s see if what they say is true,” Cecil said, a little sloppily. He was dazed and overheated. His face was flushed and his thrusts into Carlos were erratic. He pulled out; he was no good to Carlos this way, and Carlos yelped at the loss, whimpering.

“I’ll take care of you,” Cecil murmured, and with two fingers of one hand, he returned to gently, painfully, slowly began to drag them over Carlos’ prostate, the other hand gripping the base of Carlos’ swollen and painfully hard cock.

Carlos jerked in the grip, trying to rut against the hand, but Cecil didn’t move it. He held fast, feeling the blood course under his fingertips as he inexorably reduced Carlos to a crying, desperate, needy mess.

“You only have to ask me to make you,” Cecil told him when Carlos wailed a wordless, needy cry.

“P-please Cecil…m-make me.”

Cecil’s eyes glittered with triumph, and he pressed hard, straight down on Carlos’ prostate as his other hand jerked suddenly, quickly while he commanded: _“Come now.”_

Carlos came so hard he didn’t just white out, he blacked out, his head painful and spinning, his ears singing, his body far away in a howling void of _release_. He came and came, and when he could open his eyes long enough to see the mess he’d made, he was astonished to see himself still squirting, still coming sluggishly.

Cecil was carefully pulling fingers out of his ass, and let go of his quickly softening penis.

“How are you going to-“ he said thickly.

Cecil smiled at him with the strange magnetic glitter of his most highly aroused. “That was beautiful,” he praised Carlos. “And I have it recorded forever.”

Carlos couldn’t even flush, he only smiled tiredly. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

Cecil made a strange noise in response to the praise, a thready whine.

“Lay on your side,” Carlos said quietly. He was so tired he could hardly move his arms, but for Cecil, he could do anything.

Cecil obeyed instantly, and Carlos hooked one of his legs over his hip as he turned to face his lover. Carlos wiped his hands in his own come and looked up at Cecil.

Cecil had opened his mouth, not understanding, and his mouth gaped wide when Carlos snapped his finger inside Cecil’s hole, and Cecil’s hips had stuttered forward.

Carlos was not as good as Cecil at breaking him, but he played a staccato rhythm on his prostate until Cecil’s erection was pressed firmly between them.

“Between my legs,” Carlos whispered huskily, and Cecil blindly corrected it, pushing between Carlos’ tight legs as Carlos continued to finger fuck him, Cecil blindly arching his back, whimpering as Carlos looked deeply into his eyes.

“You’re here with me,” he told Cecil severely. “Don’t you go away.”

Cecil cried out raggedly as Carlos pushed more deeply, more firmly, jerking his hips flush with Carlos’. Carlos used tiny motions now, jabbing more than thrusting against the smooth prostate, and Cecil came in just the same way, in tiny jerks, spasming muscles, mouth open and no sound escaping. All the sounds he had wrung from Carlos seemed to have fled, and Cecil came silently, with hitched breath and eyes screwed shut, not floating down from his high or breathing for half a minute after, until Carlos worried and stroked his ribs, talking to him in Creole again.

When Cecil finally opened his eyes, he took the longest breath Carlos had ever seen, and let it out through closed lips, like a teakettle settling.

“Are you alright?” Carlos asked tenderly, stroking Cecil’s arms lightly, with feather strokes that made Cecil shiver. “Are you happy?”

Cecil’s eyes were strangely wet. “You kept me here.”

“I’ll always keep you close to me.”

Cecil shut his eyes again, and ignoring the equipment still recording around them, tucked his head under Carlos’ chin.

Carlos held him until he fell asleep in puzzled bewilderment.


End file.
